The Stakes Are Raised
by Gridmaster
Summary: Rachel has to deal with the consequences of her actions. Part two of the Poker Trilogy. Rating for situations.


# The Stakes are Raised

Rachel stared at the plastic wand, the twin blue lines standing out from the white background. Silently, she wrapped the wand in the instruction sheet, stuffed the lot back in the box and dropped it in the trash.  
She'd tried to ignore the signs, the nausea, the dizziness, the lack of energy, but when her normally clockwork visitor failed to make an appearance, she knew. The home test only drove the point further, and the doctor's appointment she'd scheduled for the next morning would, she was sure, make it crystal clear. She, Rachel Amanda Leeds, was pregnant.  
Mechanically, she dressed and got into her car. The landscape passed by unnoticed, the ocean sparkling in the early morning light failed to draw her appreciation. Her mind was still locked on those blue lines. She pulled into her parking space, flashed her badge to the security guard, and took the route to her office in silence, not noticing those few people around who smiled or nodded in her direction.  
She shuffled the papers on her desk, for once not wondering at the amount of paperwork generated by her division. The words barely registered in her mind; when she finally noticed she'd been holding the same report for half an hour and hadn't even read the title, she pushed it aside with a sigh. Her mind wasn't in it. For all intents and purposes, her mind was two weeks in the past, at the precise time she'd challenged Max Steel, her former partner, to what she'd called a "defense exercise," won, and "claimed her prize." _Joke's on you, Leeds. Looks like it was _your_ defenses that were breached, after all._  
"Oh god," she murmured, truth sinking in deeper every moment. "I'm single, nearly thirty, pregnant by a man--a boy!--ten years younger that I seduced…practically _raped_!" She slumped in her chair, head in her hands, "What have I _done_?"

Half an hour later, after much internal debate and struggle, Rachel found herself facing the one man she'd never thought to visit: Dr. Paul Burroughs, staff psychologist at N-Tek. "I just need to talk to someone I can trust," she explained, sinking into the deep leather chair. "Someone unbiased, someone who'll actually listen."  
'That's why I'm here." Paul, in the chair opposite Rachel, folded his hands in his lap. "Go on."  
"This is very difficult for me," she admitted. "Over the years, I've become used to relying on myself. I knew that I could always trust myself, even if I couldn't trust others. The recent experience with Mairot, for example." Paul nodded; everyone had heard about the traitor. "It seemed clear, with my profession, that I should keep myself at a professional distance from just about everybody. But this morning…this morning, I discovered a situation I can't--or maybe shouldn't--handle on my own.  
"I'm pregnant. And the father…he's…younger." Rachel grimaced. "Much younger, in fact. He's just starting his life; I'm afraid if I tell him about the baby, he may do something rash, something he'll regret later in life. But at the same time, I respect him too much to keep something this important from him. I could, you know. I am an experienced field operative; I know how to 'go to ground.' If I wanted to, I could hide so deeply that Jo…the father," she corrected quickly, "would never be able to find me.  
"Adding to this whole mess is my age. I'll be thirty in three months, Paul. Thirty. That's a landmark age for a woman, almost a cutoff time for having children. And I do want a family. I've put it off for a while now, because of my job, being in the field…what kind of a mother would run off to fight terrorists and leave her child with a baby-sitter? But now…now, I have a desk job, more or less. If I wanted to, I could make it full-time. I could balance a desk job with a child. Many women do.  
"To be completely honest, I actually thought about terminating this pregnancy. Not for long, mind you, only about two seconds. But it was long enough for me to know I didn't want to do it. If I were to have an abortion," her hands curled protectively over her flat stomach, "I don't think I'd have a second chance to have a baby."  
Paul nodded. "It sounds as if you've made your decision about having the baby. You mentioned the father, his age, and the fact that you feel you should tell him…?"  
Rachel sighed. "I should tell him about the baby. He deserves to know; it's just…. I don't want to burden him. He's too young to have to deal with this. But…"  
"He has a right to know," Paul finished.  
"Exactly." Rachel rubbed her eyes. "Thank you, Paul. For listening."

Upon leaving Paul's office, Rachel went in search of Max. She checked in the exercise room, the conference room, and the commissary with no luck. On a hunch, she headed for the labs. Sure enough, Max was there, deep in discussion with Berto on some new piece of equipment. He looked up and met Rachel's gaze. Her breath caught as their eyes met; he still had the power to make her forget everything she wanted to do.  
Max, for his part, was lost as soon as she stepped in the door. Her eyes always reminded him of that afternoon; the look in them now brought a sharp jerk to the lower portions of his anatomy. What Berto was saying about the new whatcha-ma-thingie flowed past him; all he was aware of was Rachel.  
When Berto realized he was getting more response from the chair than from Max, he looked up. Rachel was standing silently in the doorway. _Now or never, Leeds._ "Max, I need to talk to you later tonight."  
"Okay…." Before he could say anything else, she'd turned and disappeared.  
"What was that about, _hermano_?"  
"Damned if I know, bro."

Josh paced his bedroom, not sure what Rachel meant. "Did she want to talk to _me_, or to Max? It must be me; if it were work-related, she'd have talked to me in her office. So it has to be personal stuff."  
As for the personal stuff, Josh wasn't exactly sure what was going on. Other than that sparring session--which he still remembered fondly late at night, or in history class when it got _really_ dull--they'd gone to dinner twice, he'd talked her into rollerblading on the boardwalk with him, and he'd accompanied her to a rather disastrous symphony performance. "Can I help it if Stravinsky puts me to sleep?" he mumbled at the memory, rubbing his still-aching calf where she'd kicked him awake.  
"I wonder what this is about," he mused, pulling his red convertible into Rachel's parking lot. He had a nagging feeling it wasn't about the symphony, and that it wasn't going to be good.  
For her part, Rachel was pacing in front of her closet, surrounded by scattered heaps of clothing strewn across the floor and half the bed. In bra and panties, she regarded what was still on hangers. "What do you wear to tell someone you're having his baby?"  
She sighed and collapsed on the bed. "Maybe I should just write 'I'm pregnant' on my stomach in chocolate sauce and greet him at the door." She was momentarily distracted by the thought of Josh, chocolate sauce, and bare skin, but quickly dispelled the image. "Damn hormones," she muttered, digging through her wardrobe again.  
She'd finally decided on a grey cashmere pullover and tan khakis when her door buzzer sounded. She raced to the console. "Yes?"  
"It's Josh."  
She pressed the door control. "It's open." Rachel leaned against the door before unhooking the chain and throwing back the deadbolt.  
"Hi." Josh stood, subdued, hands in the pockets of his jeans. "You wanted to talk to me?"  
Rachel nodded. "Come in. Sit down." _You're going to have to in a moment._  
Josh moved to the small living room, perching on the edge of the couch. Rachel paced a few times before finally sitting on the opposite end. Her fingers drummed her knees as she tried to figure out the best possibly way to tell him.  
"Josh…would you like something to drink?" came out instead. She popped to her feet, trying to dart into the tiny kitchenette. "Or maybe something to eat; I know I have sandwich makings…"  
Josh took her hands and pulled her back to the couch. "Rachel, what's wrong? I've never seen you like this before."  
She raised her head to meet his eyes. The words flowed from her easily. "I'm pregnant."  
Josh just stared. At first, the words just buzzed around in his head, meaningless bits of noise.  
"Josh?"  
Then, with the force of a Mack truck, the impact of what she'd said hit him. Pregnant. Baby. Tiny life. Responsibility.  
"Josh?"  
The color slowly seeped from his face. Pregnant. A baby. A huge responsibility. _Maybe if I close my eyes, this will all be a strange dream._  
"Josh?" He opened his eyes and met Rachel's again. He saw the worry, the fear in her eyes that must mirror what showed in his own. "Josh, say something."  
"A baby, Rachel…."  
"I know. I just found out this morning; I took a home test. I have an appointment with my doctor tomorrow, for confirmation."  
"Rachel…"  
"I've been putting money aside for a long time, and N-Tek's medical plan will cover most of my doctor expenses. I'm not telling you this to ask for anything. It was my fault, not thinking of consequences to my actions. I won't hold you to anything. You…you just deserved to know."  
"Rachel…." Josh stood, pacing. Rachel was reminded of a caged tiger or lion, the way Josh moved in her small apartment. "This, this is…overwhelming." He turned, looked at her sitting on the couch. Now that the words were out, she seemed calmer. "I don't know what you want me to say, Rache."  
"I don't want you to say anything. I just wanted you to know." She stood. "Maybe…maybe you should go. We both need time to think."  
Josh let himself be herded out of her apartment. He collapsed in the front seat of his car, not sure he could trust himself driving quite yet. "A baby," he groaned, forehead hitting the steering wheel.

The next afternoon found Rachel at her desk, efficiently finishing off the two days' worth of paperwork. Her appointment that morning had gone well, the doctor confirming the diagnosis. Armed with a prescription for vitamins and an armload of pamphlets, Rachel felt the awkwardness of the day before slip into the past, to be replaced with efficient, orderly planning.  
She was just getting ready to leave for the day when a knock on her door was followed by Max entering. "Hey," he greeted her. "How'd the appointment go?"  
"As expected." She looked at him, met his eyes.  
"Rachel…." Max shifted his weight, fingers tapping off the bio-link. _If I screw up now, better Berto doesn't know._ "After I went home last night, I did some thinking. A _lot_ of thinking," he admitted wryly. "And a lot of points made sense. I mean, a baby needs space, right? You can't really fit anything else into your apartment, but I've got more space than I need. And, my parents left me enough to be comfortable, so you wouldn't have to worry about expenses, and a baby really should have two parents…what I'm trying to say, is, would you marry me? Or Josh, I guess. Both, really…"  
"No." One word, spoken quietly, stopped his flow of words.  
"But…." Max put his hand behind his neck.  
"No. I appreciate the offer, but no. I meant what I said last night, Max. I'm not holding you to any responsibility."  
"But…."  
"No." She placed her fingertips over his lips. "My mind is settled." She shouldered her bag. "I have to go."  
Max watched her leave, confusion filling his soul. It had taken every ounce of courage he possessed to ask her to marry him, and he hadn't expected her to say no. "What went wrong?" he asked the walls.

Outside, Rachel allowed the mask of self-confidence to drop. She rested her head on the steering wheel, feeling the ache of responsibility in her bones. Max's offer, well meaning though it was, had touched a nerve she didn't know she had. "Is it so wrong," she asked the parking tag, "to be wanted for myself, and not out of a sense of duty or honor?"  
Looking at the front doors, at the flow of people entering and exiting, something crystallized in her mind. If she stayed at N-Tek, she'd have to face Max every day. Every day of her pregnancy, when her hormones and emotions would be volatile…_and he puts me on edge as it is. If he asked me again, I might not have the strength to say no_. A spark of pride, of dignity, flared in her soul. She knew what she had to do.

"Resign?" Jefferson Smith rose from his chair in disbelief. "Why?"  
"Sir…." Rachel swallowed. "Sir, I've recently discovered that I'm pregnant." _That wasn't so bad, Leeds. Seems to get easier and easier._  
"That's no reason to resign. In fact, it's a strong reason to stay on. Babies are expensive, Rachel. You'll need your salary, and the medical benefits. Plus, our maternity plan is one of the best in the nation."  
"Sir, I was hoping to spend my pregnancy in London, where I can be close to my family."_  
What about the father?_ Jeff thought. "Rachel, I'll tell you what. Instead of accepting your resignation, --which, by the way, I never will--I'll put you on sabbatical. You'll still receive salary and medical benefits. You can apply for maternity leave when you feel it's best."  
"Thank you, sir. And, sir?" Rachel paused, thinking of how to ask delicately. "I'd appreciate it if the details behind my leaving were kept quiet. I'd rather not have everyone at N-Tek knowing about my condition."  
Jeff agreed, all the while thinking, _What the hell am I going to tell my son?_

Rachel looked out the plane window, feeling a mild twinge of regret as the plane lifted. She was leaving her job, her coworkers, peers, and the only home she'd known for the past several years. _This is right, for everyone,_ she thought. _You'll realize it soon, Josh. You wouldn't want a baby and a thirty-year-old wife tying you down, not when you're just starting your peak. I do appreciate your offer; I just wish it came from love, not duty._ As she watched, Del Oro Bay became just a spot on the far horizon.


End file.
